Unspoken Pleasures

unspoken pleasures danced through her ears
a hint of remorse? was it possible?
lived lives so equally separate
but the streak remained a pattern of flame
flaring behind its contrasted façade
none were the wiser
or were they
only one soul to be curious
one silver wisp to be bold
pursue the intrigue

waiting and watching
suppressing wanton fear
the intoxication of the hunt
the touch that lacks initiation
mutual and nonconsensual
deeply and unconsciously willing
all with aesthetic futility and unspoken, dilated awakening

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A/N: I know I should have said this in the Author's Notes section, but I didn't want to spoil the effect of the poetry. I originally wrote "Unspoken Pleasures" as a ficlet, for lack of a better word. It was way too short to submit it as a short story, but if you're curious, here it is:

Unspoken pleasures danced through her ears.

What was this? A hint of remorse? Would it have worked? They each had a lifestyle equally different from that which the other lead.

But there was a streak in her no matter how she tried to repress it. It flared up behind her façade so that none were the wiser. But had anyone seen that flicker, or did she keep it guarded so to see who would be curious and bold enough to pursue their intrigue?

She’s still waiting and watching. It scares her, but she tries to suppress the fear. The intoxication of the hunt, the touch that still lacks initiation—it must be mutual, but at the same time nonconsensual; deeply and unconsciously willing, but with aesthetic futility and an unspoken, dilated awakening.